


Life and Love in St. Petersburg

by TheInsaneFox



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInsaneFox/pseuds/TheInsaneFox
Summary: Yuri has been down lately and Mila notices, so she tries to do something nice for him by throwing a surprise party for his twenty-second birthday.  What she actually does is end up complicating his love life and forcing him to realize a few things he's been in denial about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot, but as I am currently sitting at home with a knee injury that is preventing me from going anywhere for the next few weeks, this story inevitably ran away with me and will now likely end up being 2 or 3 parts.
> 
> First fic for YOI...and first fic I've written in something like five years. Cheers for getting back on the writing bandwagon and falling into Otayuri hell! 
> 
>  
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are my own.

            Ever since he could remember, Yuri had never exactly been awash in friends.  He had always sworn he was fine that way, as friends were nothing more than distractions from his skating.  You don’t get to the top by letting your attention wander anywhere other than practicing and becoming the best the sport has ever seen.

            Well, his personality probably had a lot to do with his lack of friends, but his pride would never allow him to admit that out loud.

            Hell, the last time he could even remember receiving a present from anyone had been on his tenth birthday—the day he was set to move from Moscow and leave behind his grandfather and the only life he had ever known.  Determined (read: stubborn as a mule and then some), Yuri had refused to let his grandfather know how scared and sad he was to be leaving.  He knew he had to do it in order to become the best male figure skater in history, but he was still a child and the idea of leaving behind what little family he had terrified him.

            That was when Grandpa Plisetsky had surprised Yuri by handing him a small, fluffy kitten right before he was set to board his plane to St. Petersburg.  “She will be with you when I cannot.  Whenever you are lonely or homesick, simply hold her and know I am thinking of you, Yuratchka.”

            Despite his resolve, the young boy had finally let the unshed tears fall as his grandfather told him that.  He let out a loud sob and clutched the small kitten close to him, even when she let out an indignant squeak and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.  She was perfect and he knew that he was going to love her forever. 

            He named her Nadya after his late grandmother that he never had a chance to meet, but whom Grandpa always loved to talk about.  In a way, he supposed it was how he kept a piece of Grandpa close to him, despite the large distance.

            After that, birthdays just weren’t something he looked forward to.  They were just a painful reminder of the family he rarely ever got to see anymore, and the lack of friends who cared enough to wish him a happy birthday and make the day special.

            So on his twenty-second birthday, Yuri had done exactly what he did every year on his birthday: the same damn thing he did every other day of the year.  He got up early, went for a run, ate breakfast, and then spent the whole day training at the rink with Yakov.  By the time he got home that evening, he was physically dragging.  The old bastard had made him practice his quads until he couldn’t stand on his skates anymore.  All he wanted right now was to take a hot bath, and then curl up on the couch with Nadya and a bottle of wine.  And now that dream was so close he could feel it waiting for him on the other side of the front door.

            “SURPRISE!”

            Yuri dropped his keys in utter shock the second he walked through the front door and flipped on the lights, and let out a string of expletives so creative, Lilia would have barked at him in pure disgust, had she been around to hear it.  “Do not use such ugly words, Yuri!” or something along those lines.

            Here, in his tiny little apartment, was every person he did not want to see right now, and then some.  Actually, scratch that, he only recognized four of them—Mila, Georgi, and of course the gross couple themselves, Viktor and Yuuri.   The other twenty or so people that were there he only vaguely recognized as friends of Mila’s that he had met a handful of times at various parties and group outings, but couldn’t place a single name if his life depended on it.  And he really did not give enough of a fuck to find them out.

            “What the fuck are you all doing in my apartment?!  Viktor!  Katsudon!  You two planned this, didn’t you?!” Yuri snarled while he threw his keys into a bowl atop the small table in his entryway.

            Viktor held up his hands in mock hurt, looking at Yuri with those bright blue eyes everybody was always raving about.  “Yurio!  How could you?  We just wanted to give you a great birthday because we love you—oof!”

            Viktor pouted and gently rubbed at his side where his husband had sharply elbowed him in the ribs.  Thankfully Yuuri had always had a slightly better handle on how to work with the younger Yuri’s erratic emotions, which although they had improved with age, were still explosive and hard for anyone but a select few to deal with.

            “Actually, Yurio, this was all Mila’s idea.  She said you’ve seemed down at the rink lately so she wanted to cheer you up a little.” Yuuri at least had the decency to look embarrassed by this.

            The blonde let out another snarl before turning his attention on the unsuspecting Mila as he stormed after her in the kitchen, “Oy, old hag!  What the fuck were you thinking?”

            Viktor chuckled and threw an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they watched their younger friend run around the small apartment, barking at people to get out and occasionally grabbing a loose beer to throw back a few long drags in between shouting fits.

            “I think he’s happy to see us,” the older Russian stated while Yuuri shook his head in mild amusement.

            “It’s just too bad Otabek couldn’t make it.  That really would have made Yuri happy.”

            Viktor paused for a minute, debating whether to tell Yuuri the truth about that.  He finally caved because he knew it was impossible to keep anything from his husband.

            “Actually, about that…”

 

***

 

            Despite his best efforts, everyone was determined to stay at his apartment and have a good time, so Yuri finally gave up and poured himself a vodka tonic.  He knew he would severely regret drinking when he had practice first thing in the morning, but he felt it was justified given the current situation.  Let Yakov scream and bitch at his hungover ass tomorrow.

            Looking around at the group, Yuri was painfully aware of Otabek’s absence.  He would have hoped that Mila had included his best friend in on this party, but it was quite possible that he’d been stuck in Almaty for work or family reasons.  Yuri tried not to think about it too much and made a mental note to Facetime the other man later once everyone had left.

            Since he was already decently buzzed at this point, Yuri threw all fucks to the wind and decided to throw back a few more vodka tonics and whatever cheap beer Mila had brought with her.  She made a comment about him stealing all of her beer, but he flipped her off and walked away as he dragged the cheap crap from the bottle.

            It wasn’t until Viktor came over and tried challenging him to one of his damned dance offs that Yuri realized maybe he should slow it down on the drinking.  The room was spinning a little more than he cared to admit and suddenly his stomach felt like it might rebel against all of the poison he had dumped into it over the last few hours.  Groaning, he made his way over to the only bathroom in the apartment, only to find out it was occupied.  He could hear some suspicious moaning coming from the other side of the door and only hoped that it wasn’t anybody he knew in there.  Or maybe it was better if it was a couple of strangers going at it in his bathroom, but he was too drunk to really decide which was worse. 

Out of spite, he kicked the door hard enough to startle whomever was in there and yelling “get out of my bathroom, fuckers!” before turning around and marching outside to his balcony.

            The cool air of March in St. Petersburg blew a sobering gust in his face.  He grasped the railing, trying to keep himself from falling over, but instead ended up puking over the side into his neighbor’s azalea bush.

            “Fuck,” he groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  He figured he should just be grateful that so far none of his nosy older neighbors had called in a noise complaint on them. 

            “You okay?” a voice came from behind Yuri.

            Yuri yelped and spun around to face the owner of the voice, having had the shit scared out of him for the second time that night.  The stranger was a young man, maybe a year or two older than himself, with dark hair and eyes so blue that they made Viktor’s look dull in comparison.  He wore a leather jacket and was smoking a cigarette, which explained why he had stepped outside on the cold evening since he clearly wasn’t even drunk.

            “Who the fuck are you?” Yuri said before he could even try to filter his thoughts.  Great, this was just like the first time he met Otabek at that hotel in Barcelona all over again when the first thing he said to his now best friend was, “what’s with you, asshole?”

            The strange man dropped the butt of his cigarette and stomped it out, drawing the pregnant pause out longer than necessary.  Finally, he simply stated, “Ruslan,” as his response.

            “Well how the fuck did you get into my party?  Was it Mila?  I’ve never met you before.”

            Ruslan gave Yuri a long look, as if evaluating his next words.  “You say ‘fuck’ a lot.  Do you not know any other words?”

            The scowl Yuri fixed him with did nothing to deter the man’s question.  He merely raised his eyebrows, clearly expecting an answer.  Or maybe Yuri’s vision was just going blurry at this point, it was hard to tell.

            “I might.  What’s it to you?  It’s my place, I get to ask the questions.”

            “I’m Mila’s cousin.  I’m visiting from Moscow and staying with her for a few weeks so she invited me along to the party since I had nothing better to do tonight.”  Ruslan shrugged and leaned back against the wall. 

He seemed nervous now, without the cigarette to keep his hands busy, so he resorted to fidgeting with his jacket sleeves and rocking up on the balls of his feet.  If Yuri were another person, like maybe Viktor, he would have tried to fill the awkward silence.  Instead, he leaned over the railing to puke one last time before walking past the man and back inside where hopefully the perverts had left his bathroom by now.  Eloquence, thy name was Yuri Plisetsky.

            After Yuri had been able to commandeer his bathroom back, he brushed his teeth and, against his better judgment, picked up another beer.  It was his birthday after all, so fuck it, he was going to keep drinking.  Puke and rally and all of that.

            At that point things began to get a little fuzzy.  He remembered finding Ruslan again inside and at this point he was drunk enough to actually hold a conversation with the guy.  He even remembered thinking that he might actually like him.  He was certainly attractive, and while he normally preferred brown eyes, something about the bright blue of those eyes drew him in.  Yuri found himself wishing Ruslan had an undercut too; for some reason he was picturing himself running his hands through hair cropped short on the sides and longer on top.  Hair like—shit, where was this train of thought coming from?  He was thinking of Otabek, his best friend, and he couldn’t figure out why.  He supposed it was just because he was so disappointed that he hadn’t been able to come to Yuri’s party, so he did his best to brush the thoughts aside.

            Suddenly, Ruslan’s lips met his own.  Yuri had absolutely no idea who initiated the kiss, but it probably didn’t matter.  Although he hated to admit it, the man was a damn good at this, and judging by the satisfied groan he let out, Ruslan seemed to be equally enjoying it. 

            They must have been in his kitchen, because before he realized what was happening, Ruslan picked him up and set him on the counter before moving between his legs to get closer.  Yuri wrapped his ankles around the other man’s waist and deepened the kiss, letting out an embarrassing moan as he opened his mouth to let Ruslan’s tongue in.  On instinct, Yuri rolled his hips and ended up grinding their growing erections together, resulting in another needy moan coming from one or both of them, he could no longer tell.  Frankly, his head was spinning so badly that he wasn’t even totally sure what he was doing at the moment.  It was almost like an out-of-body experience, but mostly in a way that he was almost positive he wasn’t going to remember anything in the morning.

            “Fuck, we might need to move this somewhere else,” Ruslan growled, pulling away for just a second to catch his breath.

            Yuri barked out a laugh at that, shocked after the crap the other man had been giving him about his choice of swearing earlier.  “We could try my room, if your stupid cousin hasn’t already made use of it.  I saw that douche bag hockey player she used to date in here earlier, so there’s a good chance they’re back together for the night.”  Yuri mentally patted himself on the back for being able to still annunciate the words enough for someone else to understand him.  Well, he thought that sounded pretty articulate.  He could have just imagined it at that point.

            Ruslan hummed in a way that neither confirmed nor denied Yuri’s inner diatribe and began looking around for another option.  As if he figured this was the best they were going to get, he leaned back in before crashing their lips together again.  This time, Yuri wasted no time sliding his hands under Ruslan’s shirt, while Ruslan’s hand began wandering further down and was now running along the waistband of his jeans.  The sound that came out of Yuri’s throat could only be described embarrassingly as a mewling noise as he once again started to grind his hips against Ruslan’s, trying to encourage the other man to let his hand wander lower.  Somewhere in the background, someone was playing music on Yuri’s stereo system, and he couldn’t help but take note of the lyrics to Martin Garrix’s _Scared to Be Lonely_ that was playing at that moment.  If there was a God, He was surely laughing at Yuri right now.

 

_Is it just our bodies?_

_Are we just losing our minds?_

_Is the only reason that you’re holding me tonight_

_Is because we’re scared to be lonely?_

Ruslan continued to rub his fingers along Yuri’s waist, eliciting a snarl from the blonde.  He was about to snap at the man to just fucking _touch him_ already, when he heard a surpised, “Oh!” coming from the doorway.

            Looking over Ruslan’s shoulder, Yuri saw the most familiar pair of brown eyes staring at them, wide-eyed and clearly uncomfortable with what he had walked in on.  For reasons unknown to him, Yuri felt himself starting to panic as the words flew out of his mouth before he even realized he was talking, “Beka?  What are you doing here?”

            Otabek looked hurt and betrayed, and Yuri had no idea why.  He hadn’t done anything wrong.  Yuri was single, it was his birthday, he was drunk, and he was entitled to have fun every once in a while.  And yet some part of him felt the guilt stab him in the stomach as his best friend turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, heading towards the front door.  And wait, what the fuck just happened?  Oh, fuck.  Fuck.

            “Shit,” Yuri snapped, shoving Ruslan away as he jumped down from the counter and took off after Otabek.  He heard the other man make an indignant noise at being left high and dry, but he didn’t give a fuck at this moment.  All that mattered was Otabek.

            “Beka!  Beka, wait!”

            Over the years, Yuri’s legs had grown longer than his best friend’s, which thankfully gave him the advantage that he needed to catch up to Otabek and grab his arm before he could make it out of the front door.

            “Beka, what are you doing here?  I thought you couldn’t make it…” Yuri began, but fell short.  He honestly didn’t even know why he was trying to explain himself, nor did he even know what his excuse would even be. 

            “It’s okay, Yura.  I wanted to surprise you but I guess my timing was awful,” Otabek gave a one of his usual half smiles, the closest he really ever came to showing any true emotion.

            Yuri knew his best friend well enough to see through the bullshit.  But he also didn’t know how to respond at this point.  Plus, he was really, really wasted and it was honestly taking all of his effort to keep from pitching over onto the floor right there.

            “Beka, please stay.  I want to spend my birthday with you,” Yuri mumbled so quietly, he was surprise if Otabek even heard him.  Or maybe his level of drunkenness had finally slurred his speech so much that nobody could even understand him at this point.

            Otabek looked like he wanted to say something, probably give an excuse to leave, but it was at this moment that Yuri’s level of intoxication finally caught up to him, so seemingly without explanation, he very carefully lowered himself to be sitting on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, while still holding on to the leg of Otabek’s jeans.  The older man was suddenly worried about Yuri, who had started to whine, “Beka, the room is spinning.  Fuck, I really overdid it with the drinking…”

            At this point, Yuri let go of his friend in favor of laying down in the middle of the floor.  Otabek did feel pretty bad for him, seeing as how absolutely hammered he obviously was.  He reached down to try to get Yuri to stand up so that he could take him back to his bed, or at the very least the couch, but the younger man was already out cold. 

            It appeared that the party had mostly died down at this point, so Otabek gathered Yuri into his arms and hoped to God nobody was in his bedroom so that he could put him to bed.  The Ice Tiger of Russia was not exactly light and he had no desire to carry him any further than absolutely necessary.

           

***

 

            Yuri woke the next morning (or possibly afternoon?  He had absolutely no sense of what time it was) to sunlight drilling holes in his temple.  Curling in on himself, he was also hit with a wave of nausea so severe that he wanted to let out a loud sob, but couldn’t because the noise would only make the headache worse.  He tried to go back to sleep, but instead quickly found himself sprinting to the bathroom to pay tribute to the Porcelain Gods.

            Once everything he’d consumed in the last twelve hours had indefinitely found its way back up, he managed to wash his face a little and brush his teeth.  Any thoughts of how last night had gone didn’t even occur to him at this point; he was completely focused on just making it back to his bed without dying.

            By the time he finally crawled his way back into his bed, he finally noticed the bottle of water and two aspirin pills sitting on his night stand.  Next to these blessed items was a little note written in what he instantly recognized as Otabek’s handwriting that simply said _“Take this.”_ Yuri managed a half smile at that before taking the pills and downing the entire bottle of water in one go.  It definitely went without saying that he’d really overdone it last night on the alcohol. 

            Gingerly, he lay back down on his side, making sure a trashcan was nearby in case it was needed again.  He finally noticed his phone lighting up with a notification on his bedside table, so he leaned over to check the time and anything he may have missed, pushing Nadya out of the way as she tried to pounce on the illuminated screen.

            Much to his shock, it was two o’clock in the afternoon.  Panic instantly rose up in him as he realized that he had missed morning practice, but quickly decided he didn’t give a fuck when he saw the long string of texts, voicemails, and missed calls from his coach, all of them cursing Yuri to hell for not showing up this morning.  Thankfully, Mila had explained the situation to Yakov for him, so while the old man knew his prized student was alive at least, it did not make him any less furious that Yuri had blown off practice.

            He had several texts from Viktor and Katsudon, wishing him a happy birthday and that they had hoped he managed to enjoy himself last night.  Yuri was embarrassed to admit that while racking his brain, he had no recollection of even seeing them at the party after the initial ‘surprise’ part had happened. 

There were also a few texts from an unknown number that started with:

_Hey, where did you go?_

Then

_Are you okay?  You disappeared._

            The last text from the unknown number said, _It’s Ruslan, in case you haven’t figured it out.  Mila gave me your number.  Hope you’re doing okay after last night.  Also wanted to let you know that I would love to pick up where we left off, so give me a call sometime._

Yuri rolled his eyes at that one.  Ruslan had been a fun spur of the moment thing, but he really wasn’t sure it was ever going to escalate beyond what had already happened.  He’d have to tell the hag to stop bringing her attractive but annoyingly clingy cousins along to parties from then on.  She was enough to handle on her own, he didn’t need to deal with the rest of her genetic tree with similar traits.  Still, he quickly added Ruslan to his contacts list since it was bothering him to see an unknown number in his text messages. (Or so he told himself).

            Finally, he noticed his last unread text from Otabek. “Let me know when you’re awake.”

            For whatever reason, Yuri felt his heart skip a beat.  He immediately opened the text to reply, “I’m awake.  Not sure how I’m alive though.”

            He saw the telltale “…” that Otabek was typing a reply, but before he could finishing typing out his response, a loud thud came from the hallway outside of Yuri’s bedroom, followed by footsteps coming down the hallway.  When the door began to slowly open and Yuri saw Otabek poke his head inside the room, he gave a weak smile and muttered a soft, “hey.”

            Otabek nodded before coming into the room and sitting down gently on the mattress next to his hungover friend.  In true Otabek fashion, he didn’t even say anything, just rubbed comforting circles on his friend’s back, completely aware of the pain he must be in.

            Finally, Yuri managed to speak up, albeit in the most pathetic tone he had ever managed, “Bekaaaa, I’m dying.”

            Otabek chuckled, but didn’t stop his ministrations on Yuri’s back.  “No, you’re not.”

            Yuri let out a whimper so sad that Otabek couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the poor guy, especially when he glanced over and saw the screen of Yuri’s phone light up with an incoming call from Yakov.  Otabek had spoken to Mila earlier and she said that she’d already explained Yuri’s absence to the old coach, but of course Yakov wasn't having any of it.  To be fair, he had a valid point that Yuri had done this to himself and it wasn’t an actual illness, but Otabek just couldn’t bring himself to wake his best friend up and drag him to the rink this morning. 

            He must have stopped stroking Yuri’s back at some point because the younger man started wiggling under Otabek’s still hand in an indication to keep going.  When he failed to pick up on the nonverbal cue, Yuri finally let out a frustrated groan before reaching back to grab Otabek’s hand and lace their fingers together.  Much like his favorite animals, Yuri was one to demand to be pampered and pet, although only on his terms.

            “Are you ever going to answer Yakov?” Otabek couldn’t help but laugh at the look of utter disgust that Yuri’s face molded into at the suggestion.

            “нет.  The old geezer will just stroke out from all the yelling.  So really I’m saving his life by not answering,” Yuri replied, nose wrinkled like he had just smelled something obscene.  Which, given his current state, was quite possible.

            “You have to talk to him eventually, Yura,” Otabek raised an eyebrow at the younger man, but squeezed the hand laced with his in a silent promise to support him no matter what.

            Yuri shrugged, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence after that.  Other than the occasional pained whimper coming from Yuri as he continued to fight his hangover, the room was silent, which wasn’t unusual when the two of them were together.  Otabek had never been one to waste words, and Yuri was just grateful that he had someone that was so easy to be with.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure there was anybody else in the world who cared about him enough to fly out to St. Petersburg just to surprise him for his birthday. 

            At that thought, Yuri suddenly had a flash of what he couldn’t determine was a memory or something he had just imagined.  But when he had been making out with Ruslan in his kitchen, he remembered that all he could think about was Otabek.  Had that ever happened before?  Ruslan wasn’t the only guy he’d ever messed around with, but he couldn’t remember if he had ever imagined his best friend while it was happening.  Yuri’s mind was suddenly racing

            _Aw, crap.  I hope I’m not developing a crush on Beka._

            He felt a light nudge, so he looked up at his Kazakh friend.  “I can see your mind overworking itself, Yura,” Otabek couldn’t help but chuckle.

            Yuri’s face was definitely not turning red at the idea that he may have been caught.  He tried to act casual and racked his brain for a response that would be totally normal.  Thankfully, before he could even open his mouth, his phone started ringing again.  Otabek followed the sound of the phone vibrating against the wood of Yuri’s night stand, and frowned when he saw the screen.

            “Who’s Ruslan?” He asked, withdrawing his hand from where it was clasped with Yuri’s.

            Yuri’s stomach dropped at the question and tried not to feel disappointed that Otabek had let go of his hand.  Crap.  He had completely forgotten that Otabek had walked in on his and Ruslan’s hot and heavy make out session last night.

            “Mila’s cousin,” he managed to answer. “He tagged along with her to the party last night.”

            Well, at least he hadn’t lied about it.  He just left out the part that said man was the same super attractive one that Otabek had walked in on them essentially dry humping in his kitchen.

            Otabek raised his eyebrows.  He knew damn well which one was Ruslan.

            “So the one you whose tongue was shoved down your throat?” Otabek’s voice was rougher than Yuri was used to hearing it as he asked that.

            The blonde’s face turned even redder at this, likely resembling the color of his grandfather’s borscht.  Whether it was because Otabek had addressed the metaphorical elephant in the room, or because Yuri’s mind was immediately bombarded by the fantasies he had been playing out in his head that featured his best friend while it was happening, he wasn’t sure.

            “Yeah…” Yuri honestly wasn’t sure what else to say.  The phone stopped ringing so at least he didn’t have to answer in front of his best friend.

            “Any plans to see him again?” The question hung between them like a dare.  Otabek’s face was as discernable as ever, but Yuri wasn’t going to take it.

            “No,” Yuri finally decided he was safe to sit up without emptying the contents of his stomach, so he was eye level with Otabek. “It was just a onetime thing that involved too much alcohol.”

            Green eyes met brown in a bit of an awkward stare off for several seconds before Otabek sighed and seemed to accept this answer.  The older man rubbed at the back of his neck and bit down on his lower lip, as if he was contemplating his next words extremely carefully.

            As was typical of Otabek, the words that came out were slow and clearly calculated.  “Good.  I’m glad I won’t have to fight him for your affections now.”

            Yuri’s eyes flew open at that statement.  _Wait, is Beka actually jealous?_

            Otabek looked sheepish but clearly had meant what he said.  Yuri’s mind was overwhelmed with the realization that Otabek might like him. 

            Yuri should have known by now that his best friend could read him like an open book.  After all, when the first thing someone says they notice about you is that you “have the eyes of a soldier,” it’s pretty obvious how in tune they are with your thoughts and emotions.

            He wasn’t sure how long he sat there contemplating this information, but it must have been a while because Otabek got up from his position at Yuri’s side and stretched his arms over his head before asking Yuri if he wanted anything to eat.  Yuri shook his head and said anything he’d eat right now would just come right back up anyways—and said so while trying very hard not to stare at the exposed piece of midriff that was conveniently in his line of vision as Otabek’s shirt rose up while he stretched.

            “Alright, just let me know if you need anything.  I’ll be in the living room if you do,” Otabek smiled then, as if he just remembered something.

            Leaning down, he gave Yuri a soft kiss on the crown of his head and mumbled a quiet, “Happy birthday, Yura,” before he turned and left to go find something to eat in the kitchen.

            Conflicted and still sick, Yuri gently laid back down on his bed.  His heart was beating faster in his chest and he felt the blood warming his face and neck, but he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with his wicked hangover.

            He was certainly feeling something new around his best friend that he had never felt before, although he couldn’t yet put his finger on it. 

            Yuri had some serious thinking to do.  If he managed to survive this hangover, that is.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, I'm so sorry that I'm terrible at updating and this took so long. My professional life has been crazy recently, in large part because I have to get surgery in a few weeks for a knee injury and will have to take some time off while I recover. So this had to take a back burner for a while. BUT the upcoming time off means that maybe I'll have more time to write. Or I'll just be lazy and sleep through my anesthesia stupor. Either way, I'll be hanging around without much to do, so feel free to drop me a line.
> 
> I'm also not super happy with out this turned out. I had a good idea of where I wanted it to start and end, but the tricky part was getting from point A to point B (story of almost all writing, right?). I'll most likely go back and edit this later, but for now, here we go). On the other hand, I'm just so happy to be writing for fun again that I need to re-learn to just stop be a perfectionist and upload things already.
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are my own, etc. 
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone enjoys!

About a week after his birthday, Yuri was sitting on one of the benches next to the rink during a short break from practice, scrolling through Instagram and readily trolling the Nishigori Triplets on their Twitter account.  Yakov was of course yelling and cursing at him about something, but Yuri had long ago mastered the art of completely tuning the old man out.  In fact, while his coach was screaming so much that his face had gone purple, Yuri’s phone dinged with a text notification.

He scowled when he saw that the text had come from Ruslan.  Apparently it didn’t matter how many times Yuri had spelled out how not interested he was in pursuing anything between them, the guy just couldn’t take no for an answer.  He had always thought Mila was more than enough of a handful to deal with on her own, but now that her irritating cousin had been thrown into the mix, Yuri was sure that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Babicheva family outside of this rink.

“God damn it, Yuri!  Pay attention!” Yakov’s voice was suddenly in his ear.

Yuri continued to ignore the old man and looked up to see what Otabek was doing instead.

            Off to the side, Otabek was leaned against the rink barrier while giving Yuri one of his sly smirks, seemingly amused by whatever it was Yakov was currently fixated on.  Yuri raised an eyebrow at the other man, who merely shrugged before pushing off the barrier to go practice a few jumps on the other end of the rink with Mila and Katsudon.

            Somehow Otabek had managed to convince his coach to let him stay in St. Petersburg for a couple of weeks, on the condition that he continue training with the Russian team while he was there.  Since Worlds started at the end of the month, none of them were in any position to slack off now. 

            Given that Yakov still hadn’t quite forgiven him for blowing off practice the day after his birthday and was particularly intent on making Yuri go deaf today, green eyes began to glaze over as he watched Otabek do a few lazy loops before gaining speed and launching into a Quad Lutz.  He over rotated just a bit and wobbled on landing, ending up touching down on the ice to avoid falling, but Yuri was more focused on the bunching cords of muscles in his friend’s arms and core, all of which were quite visible under the tight athletic shirt he was wearing.

            “Yurachka!  Are you even listening to me?!” Yakov’s shrill barking snapped Yuri back to reality.

            “Whatever, geezer, let’s run through my free skate again,” Yuri rolled his eyes and then went back to the center of the rink and took his starting position. 

            _Shit, I’m going to have to make sure not to get caught staring.  Beka can’t know my feelings yet_ …

            Yuri was aware of Yakov screaming that he never told him to run through the program again, but of course he was beyond giving a fuck.  If he didn’t keep himself distracted, he was going to end up doing something stupid, like getting caught staring at Beka’s muscular figure, or even worse, his toned ass that was not left to the imagination in their practice gear.

            It had taken him seven years and then some to realize this, but Yuri was starting to suspect that he might be in love with his best friend.  This wasn’t a realization that hit him all at once in a dramatic way worthy of a rom com movie, but with little inklings that worked their way into his thoughts and soul that ultimately began forming this feeling in his gut that he suspected might be love.  The final piece had merely been the night of his birthday party when Otabek had walked in on him and Ruslan making out, and he knew right then that all he cared about was Otabek and that he was madly in love with him. 

He was just so terrified to ruin one of the few real friendships he’d ever had, that Yuri was torn between confessing his feelings and letting things lie.  He was trying to convince himself that it was better to have him in his life as his best friend, than to get rejected as a lover and ruin what relationship they did have.

            He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he had popped his jump until he felt the hard jolt of his back landing on the ice.  Groaning in a mix of both pain and embarrassment, Yuri rolled onto his side and tried to tune out the sound of Yakov’s voice cursing him to absolute hell.

            Fuck, this was going to be a long practice.

           

            “Otabek, that was great!” Victor cheered as the Kazakh finally landed the Quad Lutz he had been having trouble with all afternoon. 

            Normally Otabek had no problem with this jump.  In fact, usually the Quad Lutz was one of his specialties.  But he had found himself oddly distracted all day in a way that was very unlike him.  And while the source of his distraction was painfully obvious to everyone else around him, Otabek instead spent the whole day internally berating himself for not having his collective shit together this close to Worlds.  He was getting close to retirement and had a feeling this was going to be the last year he could qualify, so he was more determined than ever to bring one last gold medal back to Kazakhstan. 

            He felt a pair of eyes on him, and thinking it was Yuri, he tried not to let his hopes get too high while he looked around for his best friend.  It turned out that Yuri was busy running through his routine again with Yakov while the two volleyed insults and curses back and forth at each other, so needless to say Otabek was a little surprised when he found that Yuuri Katsuki was staring at him with an odd look over his water bottle from his spot on next to Viktor. 

            Although Yuuri had officially retired four years ago (two years after Viktor botched a landing on a jump and tore his ACL at the age of thirty and finally had to admit defeat and announce his own retirement), he and his husband both decided to stay in St. Petersburg to help coach and choreograph new routines for the skaters.  Viktor especially had been flying all over the world to help design new routines, but Yuuri seemed to be happiest staying close to home and teaching children beginner skating classes and ballet lessons.  He split his time between Russia and Japan, but his trips back to Hasetsu had become less and less frequent over the years as he had settled into a life with Viktor in St. Petersburg.

            The dull thud of a body hitting the ice drew Otabek’s attention back to the other side of the rink, where he saw Yuri lying on the ice with a sort of dazed expression on his face, Yakov screaming at him from the sidelines about his horrible jump.  Otabek immediately thought he should go check on his best friend, but Yuri finally pushed himself up and got right back to work as if nothing had happened.

            “I think you’ve done enough for today, Otabek!  Best to end on a good note after that last jump,” Viktor’s voice chirped as a hand clapped Otabek on the shoulder.

            “Hm,” Otabek replied, which was as good as his way of saying, “sounds good.”

            As the group made their way to the benches off the ice to take off their skates before heading into the locker rooms, Mila ran over to where Otabek sat.

            “Hey, wanna grab a drink after we get out of here?  I’ve hardly had a chance to see you the whole time you’ve been here,” the redhead was smiling at the foreign man. 

            Brown eyes stared owlishly at Mila for a minute before Otabek said, “we never hang out.  Where is this coming from?”

            Pretending to be insulted, Mila pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Rude.  I was giving you a chance for us to get to know each other better.”

            Again, Otabek stared blankly at the woman before him.  Beyond their mutual friendship with Yuri and the fact that everyone in the professional skating world knew each other at least tangentially, the two truly had never interacted much before.  In fact, Otabek wasn’t sure how much he even wanted to spend time with anyone other than Yuri while he was here, given that he wasn’t a very social person.  He opened his mouth to begin to say as much, but Mila cut him off.

            “Listen, I fully admit I have an ulterior motive.  I want to talk to you about something, and I want to do it somewhere that certain ears won’t hear us.”

            Finally, a bit of understanding crossed Otabek’s mind.  This wasn’t purely a social thing, but there was actually a discussion she wanted to have with him about…something.  He could probably work with that over something that sounded suspiciously like a date.

            “Sure, let me just tell Yura that I’ll be late getting home.”

            Mila nodded as she watched Otabek walk over to the side of the rink Yuri was still practicing at with Yakov, mumbling to herself, “Oh, Otabek.  What a beautiful, stupid man you are.”

 

            “Yura,” Otabek called to Yuri as Yakov allowed him to finally take another fifteen minute break. 

            The blonde looked up and skated over to where Otabek was leaning against the barrier.  “Beka, what’s up?”

            “Mila is taking me out for a drink, so I just wanted to let you know I’ll be getting home a little late tonight.”

            Yuri tried to squash the surge of jealousy and disappointment the rose up in his gut.  He knew he had no reason to be jealous, but he knew how Mila could be once she set her sights on a new man.  And given her relationship history (turns out she and that douche bag hockey player _had_ hooked up in his bed the night of his birthday, but it was supposedly just a onetime thing.  And Beka swore he’d changed the sheets before putting Yuri to bed), Yuri didn’t know if he was comfortable with Otabek going to a bar with just Mila.

            But, he of course couldn’t say as much.  Because why should he?  They weren’t together, of that he was painfully aware, and so he had no right to tell Otabek that he didn’t like it.

            Instead, he nodded, tight lipped and doing his best not to grab his best friend’s jacket and beg him not to go.

            “Thanks, Yura.  I promise we won’t be out long.” Otabek smiled before ruffling Yuri’s hair.

            The blonde snarled and tried to sound tough, but he ended up just laughing at the gesture.  It was amazing how Otabek possessed the ability to make him forget his negative feelings so quickly.  No wonder his feelings for him had long since gone beyond simple friendship.

            Yuri must have had a pretty happy look because he got a teasing cat call from Viktor, who shameless screamed out across the rink “Awww, our little Yurio is in love!” (Although thankfully he had waited until after Otabek and Mila had left).

            Green eyes narrowed dangerously at the older skater, a slew of curses and warnings streaming from his lips.  All he could think about was thank fuck Georgi had retired a few years ago, because if he had been around to hear this, Yuri didn’t think he could take any of that sap’s speeches about young love that he surely would have prattled off until Yuri was clawing at his own ears and begging for him to stop.

            Yakov finally let out a long, defeated sigh while watching his two pupils bicker back and forth much like siblings, yelling out, “that’s it, I give up!  All of you go the fuck home already!  We’re obviously not getting anything accomplished today!” While he dramatically threw his hands up in the air and stormed out of the rink, mumbling all the way about needing to hit the vodka.

            The three remaining men in the rink stared at the old man’s retreating back, unsure of how to respond to this.  They’d never seen Yakov give up like that, and it was honestly disconcerting.

            Then Katsuki finally broke the stunned silence by bursting into loud laughter.  It only took a moment for Yuri and Viktor to follow suit, the three of them letting out loud guffaws as they all doubled over.  The last few days had certainly been strange ones, and they all seemed to agree that the pressure going into Worlds and old age had been what finally caused Yakov to snap.

            Once they had all calmed down, Viktor announced that he was going to head home and asked Yuuri if he was planning on cooking dinner for them that night.  Yuuri shook his head and told Viktor to go on home and he’d be back soon, but he wanted to go over a few of the dance elements in Yurio’s routine before they called it a night.  Of course, Viktor protested and said that he couldn’t leave his husband to make the trip home alone, but Yuuri firmly waved him off and assured him that he would be home within the hour.

            Once the door closed behind Viktor, Yuri turned to ask Katsuki just what the fuck was wrong with his dance elements, but the Japanese man cut him off.  Much to Yuri’s surprise, Yuuri was smiling at him.  “Don’t worry, Yurio, we’re not going to practice anything.  I just wanted to talk without Viktor here.”

            Needless to say, Yuri was shocked that Katsuki wanted to talk without his husband around.  The two were so disgustingly codependent on each other that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be alone with one without the other hovering somewhere nearby.  But something about Yuuri’s smile was making him uncomfortable, so he could only imagine that this was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

 

            A beer was slammed down on the table in front of Otabek before he was even sure what was happening.  Mila hadn’t asked him what he wanted to drink, just marched right up to the bar and flirted with the bartender for a few minutes before coming back with two pints.  Otabek wasn’t even sure that she had paid for them but decided that it wasn’t worth prying into.  And besides, he wasn’t one to turn down a free drink when it was offered.

            When Mila didn’t start talking right away, Otabek went to work on his beer.  She was the one who had invited him out, after all, so he was leaving it up to her to start this conversation.  He had absolutely no clue what it was that she wanted to talk about anyway, so in the meantime he was content to throw back his drink in hopes of maybe getting tipsy enough to make the situation just a little less uncomfortable.

            Mila finally broke the silence after several minutes of alternating between staring into her glass and taking small sips of her beer, as if she had been trying to carefully pick her words.

            “So, Otabek, does Yuri know how you feel about him?”

            Beer went flying across the table as Otabek spit out the mouthful he had been about to drink, causing him to wheeze and cough while he tried to get his bearings.  When he made himself look over at Mila, she was merely sitting there with her chin in her hand, eyebrow raised as if that was all the answer she needed from him.

            “Okay, so obviously our little Yura doesn’t know you’re madly in love with him.  We should fix that.”  If Otabek hadn’t known any better through all the stories Yuri had told him about this woman, he would actually believe that smile on her face was innocent.

            Carefully, Otabek put down the mug of beer and began talking to Mila slowly, in a tone similar to when he was trying to talk Yuri down from one of his rages.  “It’s okay, really.  He doesn’t return my feelings and I’m happy with things the way they are.”

            The redhead was far from convinced.  “Bullshit,” she said.

            Otabek shrugged, really hoping she would give up and drop the subject.

            “No, I’m calling bullshit.  He loves you too and there’s no way I’m letting you two continue this same dance any longer.  It’s been seven years, for fuck’s sake.  One of you has to make a move already or all of us are going to lose our damn minds.” Mila’s tone left no room for argument.

            Although they were the same age, Otabek was feeling rather intimidated by this woman.  Everyone at the rink knew she was strong enough to lift any of the men if it tickled her fancy, and here she was focusing all of that determination and power on him.

            Otabek took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair and trying to calm himself.  He wasn’t so sure that Mila really understood just how complex his and Yuri’s relationship was.  They had somehow found a weird gray area that hovered between the realms of friendship and actual relationship, but he had always been so sure that Yuri had no desire to cross that threshold that Otabek had been content keeping things as they were.  Surely having Yuri in his life as a friend was better than taking the plunge and risk losing him forever…right?

            The sigh that Otabek released was long and suffering.  Despite his previous thought, he had to realize that this could be his last chance to be with Yuri.  He knew his skating career would be ending sometime in the near future, and once he was no longer competing, he was going to have to find a new way to channel all of his emotions into…something.  Otabek was, by nature, someone who always repressed his feelings and was no longer sure that he even know how to express himself if it didn’t involve a pair of skates and music.

            He had built his career on his power and determination, but not so much on his artistic expression.  So maybe now was the time to do something differently than he’d been handling everything for as long as he could remember.       

            “You still with me, Otabek?” Mila’s voice cut through his thoughts.

            “Hm,” Otabek nodded before taking another sip of his beer. “Your cousin seems to think he still has a chance with Yura.”

            Mila frowned and made a discontented sound in the back of her throat. “I’ll talk to Ruslan.  He’s uh, really bad about confusing physical pleasure for romantic feelings.  If I had realized during the party that he and Yuri were dangerously close to hooking up, I would have squashed that.  Poor boy has never been able to understand that one make out session with a person doesn’t equate a relationship.”

            Suddenly, Mila’s frown stretched back into that smile that was setting Otabek on edge earlier. “But at least one good thing came out of that whole fiasco—you and Yuri are finally getting your heads out of your asses!”

            Realizing it was a lost cause to fight Mila on the subject, Otabek resigned himself to what was coming.  “If I just admit you’re right and I’m in love with Yura, will you drop the subject?”

            The redhead just gave him that cat ate the canary grin and shook her head at him. “Absolutely not!  But now that I finally got you to admit it out loud, I have a few ideas of how you can finally tell Yuri that you love him.”

            From there, she launched into a long tirade about how and where Otabek should confess.  Although he spent the whole time only half listening while his stomach continuously tied itself in knots, Otabek was pretty sure that he managed to finally convince himself that maybe Mila was right.  If he didn’t take the leap of faith now, would he ever?

He found himself thinking of Kurt Vonnegut’s line, _Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are “what could have been.”_   He remembered finding that line somewhere while reading through a book his father had given him and thinking it was a good sentiment to live by.  And with that, he knew that if he never told Yuri just how much he loved him, he would spend the rest of his life regretting the biggest ‘what if’ of his life.

“Actually,” Otabek interjected. “I was thinking I could plan something for Worlds.  Yura’s always been most receptive to new ideas while the adrenaline of a competition is still going.”

Mila squealed and threw her arms around the Kazakh. 

_Please don’t make me regret this_ Otabek thought while he awkwardly sat there in the middle of the bar, being hugged by a woman he barely knew despite being acquainted for many years, all while she babbled on about how happy she was that one of her dearest friends was going to finally find love.

 

            Of the two parts to the disgusting old couple, Yuri would admit that Katsudon was the better choice to be stuck with in the now empty locker room as they discussed Yuri’s feelings for Otabek.  At least Yuuri didn’t try to pretend he was some kind of father figure in the younger skater’s life, unlike his husband who was always introducing Yuri to people as his “son”.  Yuuri was even a good listener and had good advice most of the time, which Yuri was sure was due in large part to struggling with his anxiety for so long—it’s hard not to be compassionate and understanding when you’ve spent most of your life talking yourself off a metaphorical ledge and knowing how much it helped when somebody just _listened_ to what was going on inside your own head.

            So somehow, despite his tough demeanor and tendency to tell the pig and his husband just where they could shove their so-called good intentions, Yuri found himself pouring out everything that he’d been keeping in for so long.  How he’d been in love with Otabek for quite some time now, and he didn’t know if how or if he should even tell him because he was terrified of ruining their friendship.  He could maybe handle being rejected by Otabek romantically, but if he lost his closest friend too, there was no way he could take that.

            The Japanese man simply sat there with a comforting hand on Yuri’s shoulder while the younger man spilled his guts.  When Yuri finally lifted his head to meet Yuuri’s eyes, he flashed his friend a comforting smile.  Yuri sniffed and wiped at his eyes _because there was something in there, not because he was crying._  

            “So, Yurio, now what?” Katsuki’s voice was soothing as he put his arm around his friend’s shoulders.

            “I…I honestly don’t know.  Yuuri, what do I do?  I can’t lose my best friend but I also can’t live with myself if I never tell him I want more.” Yuri whined while grabbing his hair by the roots, as if pulling it out would distract him from the emotional turmoil he was currently in.

            Yuuri gasped when he realized Yuri had called him by his actual name for once, not Katsudon or Pig.  Yurio must be more messed up than he was letting on.

            So, despite the fact that he knew Yuri was averse to physical contact from the vast majority of people, Yuuri opened his arms and waited expectantly.  Surprisingly, Yuri immediately noticed this and threw his arms around the Japanese man’s neck, hugging him tight enough to almost cut off his air supply.

            “You know I can’t make this decision for you, Yurio.  But whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here.  Just let me know what you need.” Katsuki sighed as he hugged his friend.

            After a few minutes of silence, Yuri finally spoke up. “I need to tell him.  I can’t live with the ‘what if’ of never talking to him about my feelings.  I just have to hope that we won’t lose what we have if he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

            Yuuri smiled at this. “Good, because if you’re sure that you want to tell him, I think I can help you come up with a plan.”

            At that, Yuri pushed back from the hug, placing his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders.

            “Actually, I think I already know how I want to tell him.  But I’m going to need your cooking skills.”

            “Anything for you, Yurio!” If possible, Katsuki’s grin was almost heart-shaped in the way Viktor’s always was. 

            _Gross, they’ve morphed into one being_ , Yuri nearly gagged at the thought.

            “Hey, why didn’t you want Viktor around for this?  You two are never apart for more than a few minutes.” Yuri suddenly remembered that his current companion had sent his husband home before staying behind to have this conversation.

            “Ah,” Yuuri sort of awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck at that. “Well, I could tell you needed to talk to someone.  And I love Vitya more than anything, but he’s not very good at listening without interfering.  I know he just wants to help in any way he can, but he tends to be overwhelming and this seemed like a delicate situation.”

            The Russian nodded, completely understanding and grateful that at least one of those two had enough empathetic sense to keep the matter private.  _Ugh, I might actually be starting to consider Katsudon an actual friend_ Yuri thought to himself, repressing the urge to roll his eyes in front of the other man.

            “Alright Katusdon, help me get to work.”

            And with that, the two men set out to plot the night out.

 

            The front door to Yuri’s apartment slammed shut as Otabek entered the hallway, sliding off his shoes and calling out to tell Yuri he was home.  He could hear the sounds of cooking as Yuri moved some pots around and swore when he dropped something, so Otabek followed the noises into the kitchen where his host was running around trying to cook something.  (And was somewhat struggling, from the looks of it).

            Surprised, Otabek walked forward and offered to help with the cooking, but Yuri shooed him away and told him to go sit at the table and that everything would be ready in a few minutes.  Otabek tried to protest but that just resulted in getting a wooden spoon tossed in his direction (although not hard enough to cause any damage, only enough to get him out of the kitchen), so he eventually gave up and wandered into the small dining area that was attached to the kitchen.  Although the space was just barely big enough for a round table and two chairs, Otabek was shocked by the random transformation of the usually cramped and unremarkable space.  Somehow Yuri had dug through the depths of his belongings and found a set of plates that actually matched, rather than his usual chipped and mismatched plates that he had randomly acquired from helping various friends move throughout the years, there was a center piece with a single rose placed in the center of the table, and small tea light candles giving a romantic ambience.

            He heard a noise as Yuri came into the dining area with an expensive looking bottle of wine.  The blonde must have seen Otabek’s stunned expression because he sheepishly ducked his head to avoid eye contact as he continued to get the room set up for dinner.  He mumbled something about the food being about ready and bolted back into the kitchen with the dishes to start plating the meal.

            By the time Yuri returned with two plates full of chicken Marsala over homemade pasta, Otabek’s mind had all but short circuited.        He knew Yuri was a good cook, but a meal this extravagant was a far cry from their usual simple dinners that were consumed solely for the sake of meeting their macros during competition season rather than for the enjoyment of the food.  In fact, he wasn’t sure that eating something so rich this close to Worlds was a good idea, let alone one that Yakov signed off on, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn down what had clearly taken Yuri several hours to prepare.

            Yuri’s voice broke through his thoughts, “Go ahead and eat, Beka.”

            Otabek shook his head to bring himself back and nodded, wordlessly digging in.

            Halfway through the meal, Otabek still hadn’t said anything.  Although this was perfectly normal for the older man, Yuri still couldn’t help but worry a little that he hadn’t made any comments about the food or the clearly romantic atmosphere he had tried so hard to achieve.  He finally couldn’t take the silence anymore and began speaking in hopes of encouraging Otabek to say something.  “So what do you think?  Katsudon gave me the recipe and I thought it sounded like a good change of pace.  We never do Italian.”

            Otabek smiled at the blonde sitting across from him. “It’s delicious, Yura.  I’m just surprised Yakov is okay with such a rich meal this close to Worlds.”

            Green eyes narrowed and for a second Otabek thought maybe he had said something wrong.  “What that old fuck doesn’t know won’t kill him.  Besides,” Yuri’s eyes softened and suddenly he looked really nervous, “tonight is kind of a special occasion.”

            “Oh?  What’s that?” Otabek’s heart was racing, equal parts excitement and dread for what Yuri may or may not be about to say to him.

            Yuri put his fork down, and pried his eyes away from his meal so that he was looking directly into Otabek’s eyes.  He opened his mouth then closed it several times, clearly searching for the right words.  Just when Otabek thought maybe he would have to step in, Yuri’s voice began to shakily speak.

            “Beka, we uh—we’ve been best friends for a long time now.  What I’m about to say might come as a bit of a shock, but I want you to know that no matter what your answer is, I hope that we can always stay best friends.”

            Otabek’s eyes shot wide open.  “Yura—“

            “No, no shut up and let me finish.” Yuri’s face was bright red at this point, his eyes now downcast and avoiding Otabek’s at all costs. “I just—ugh, okay, I had this big romantic speech planned out that Katsuki helped me write and I just can’t make myself say it because it’s so long and sappy and stupid.”

            He looked up at Otabek, who gave a slight nod of encouragement for him to continue.

            “Argh,” Yuri groaned, running his hands through his hair and tugging nervously at the roots. “Okay, fuck it, I’m just going to come right out and say.  Beka, I love you.  Not just like as my best friend, but in a romantic way.”

            At that, Yuri buried his face in his hands, unable to meet Otabek’s eye. “But I understand if you don’t feel the same way.  I just had to get it out in the open and don’t want to lose what we have if you just want to stay friends.”

            Otabek didn’t say anything for a moment, his heart fluttering and his mind racing so fast that he needed a few seconds to gather his thoughts.  Yuri whined across the table and mumbled something that sounded like “Beka, please say _something_.”

            But Otabek had never been the best with words.  In fact, he had always believed his personal motto was something along the lines of _actions speak louder than words._   So instead of speaking, he did what he thought was the best answer he could possibly give.  He stood up and in two large strides, was across the table and had Yuri’s face in his hands, lips pressed hard to the other man’s lips.

            The kiss was brief but unyielding, and when he finally took his lips away to see a stunned Yuri staring at him, he just broke into the biggest grin the Russian had ever seen on his best friend.

            “Yura, I love you too.  Have loved you ever since we met in Yakov’s summer camp.  How could you ever think I didn’t feel the same way?”

            Yuri’s eyes had grown to the size of the plates their half-eaten dinners were sitting on.  “How could I—Beka, we’ve been friends for so long, I just thought you would have made a move by now if you had felt the same way.”

            Otabek sighed and placed another brief kiss to Yuri’s lips. “And I thought the same for you.”

            Yuri started to laugh at that, and just kept laughing until he had to bend over and grasp his sides.  At first Otabek just stared in shock, but soon found himself laughing along with Yuri.  Somehow the idea that they had wasted the past seven years because they just assumed the other one had never wanted to progress beyond friendship was just so utterly absurd that all they could do was laugh at it.

            “You know,” Otabek finally choked out, “I met with Mila tonight because we were planning out how I was going to tell you I’m in love with you.”

            “Oh really?” Yuri half gasped, half giggled, trying to catch his breath.

            “Yup.  I was going to tell you after the medaling ceremony at Worlds.  Figured it would be a good way to make you feel better about my taking gold.” At this point Otabek was grinning, although his breathing had almost returned to normal.

            “As if you could ever beat me, Altin,” Yuri grinned.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Yuri finally took a deep, shaking breath and threw his arms around Otabek.  Although Yuri had grown taller than him some years ago, Otabek’s strong arms were more than capable of catching the man where he stood and hoisting Yuri’s legs so that they wrapped around his waist.  This time, Yuri was the one who initiated the kiss, and made sure it was long, deep, and wanting.

            Otabek groaned and opened his mouth, reveling in the feeling of Yuri’s tongue darting between his lips.  Without a word, he turned and pushed Yuri’s back against the wall, deepening the kiss until the two were grinding their hips together.  Otabek thought maybe he should stop this, that they should slow down, but as soon as he heard Yuri’s sultry voice whining to move them to the bedroom, he knew he couldn’t say no to his kitten.

            So when he found himself leaning over Yuri, the blonde’s back pressed into the mattress, and realizing he had no recollection of either of them taking their clothes off in their haste to get here, he pulled up and looked down at Yuri, all of his love and admiration for the other man in his eyes.

            “Yura, are you sure about this?  We’re moving awfully fast,” Otabek murmured, stroking Yuri’s cheek with his thumb.

            The blonde rolled his eyes and bucked his hips up in response, grinning at the needy groan that came from Otabek at that. “Idiot, I’ve waited seven years for this.  If you’re ready, I’ve been ready for a long time.”

            “Fuck, Yura,” Otabek whined, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his boyfriend’s neck, shoulders, and chest. “I want this so badly.  How do you want to do this?”

            The grin Yuri gave him was pure evil as he hooked his ankles around Otabek’s back and pulled their hips together and making sure their erect cocks rubbed against one another, eliciting another groan from both of them. “We have all night.  Who says I want it just one way?” he panted, grinning again at the way Otabek swallowed at that.

            And so they did have all night.  The dishes and leftover food remained in the other room, untouched, as they lost themselves in one another, making up for the seven years of pining they had lost out on.  The sounds that came from the bedroom were probably loud and obscene enough to infuriate the neighbors, but all fucks had been thrown to the wind at that point.  Yuri and Otabek loved each other, and now that they knew the other returned their feelings, they didn’t give a damn what anyone else had to say about it.

            Somehow, Yuri had a feeling that Viktor and Yuuri would be proud of the extra-ness of it all.

**~Epilogue~**

            For once, Otabek was beaming on public television, holding the flag of Kazakhstan proudly over his head while they played the national anthem of his home country, gold medal gleaming in the bright light.

            Beside him, Yuri grinned up at him from his place on the podium, his silver medal not quite what he had been aiming for, but damn if he didn’t believe that if he couldn’t have that gold medal, nobody else deserved it more than his Beka.

            On their other side was a very surprised but proud Guang Hong, Chinese flag wrapped around his shoulders while he showed off his bronze.  While Yuri had never had so much as a conversation with him, they were all just thrilled because _Thank fucking God someone kept JJ off the podium this time_.  Yuri couldn’t think of a worse way to spoil this moment than if the Canadian had been there with him and his favorite person.

            By the time the medal ceremony had ended and the three medalists had made their way back towards the locker rooms, the media had swarmed Otabek to congratulate him on his gold medal, the first Worlds win for Kazakhstan.  After asking him the inevitable questions of how proud he was and what his plans were for next season, Otabek surprised everyone by announcing his official retirement from professional skating.

            Yuri, who had been standing off to the side doing is own interview, heard the announcement and whirled on Otabek, the reporter in front of him completely forgotten.

            “What do you mean, you’re retiring?!” Yuri’s fury was barely contained, but Otabek noted that he had managed to refrain from swearing while the cameras were on them.  He was silently proud of how much Yuri had matured from his initial days in the Senior Division.

            The sly smile Otabek flashed him made Yuri’s heart skip a beat for a second, face obviously burning. “I’m going to go to college for music business.  In fact, I’ve been accepted to St. Petersburg State University.  I start this fall.”

            Green eyes shot wide. “Beka, you mean you’re moving to St. Petersburg?”

            Otabek nodded.  Yuri was still furious that Otabek hadn’t spoken to him about this before announcing it on international television, but he was simultaneously so happy that his boyfriend was moving to his city that he couldn’t contain himself.

            Much like Viktor and Katsudon had done years before, Yuri launched himself at Otabek and kissed him in front of the entire world.  He sensed the flashes of thousands of cameras going off at once, but he didn’t care.  He was going to be living near Otabek, and while he growled silently enough against his lips that the reporters couldn’t hear him that “We’re going to have a talk about this later,” he couldn’t help but feel the happiest he had felt in a long, long time.

            Somewhere in the background he could hear Viktor screaming his congratulations to the two of them while Yakov angrily yelled at Yuri for making an ass of himself in front of the entire planet, the two men couldn’t bring themselves to care.  Somewhere the Yuri’s Angels were split between excitement at this new relationship and devastation that their Yurachka was off the market, but that was an issue to deal with another time.  Yuri lifted his middle finger in the direction of Viktor’s voice.  _Hah, there’s my impetuous little Yura,_ Otabek thought fondly as he broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around Yuri.

            Yuri was going to need a lot of time to adjust to the idea of not having Otabek to compete against anymore, but something Viktor had told him when he first met Katsuki kept ringing through his mind.  Something about needing to take time away from the ice to find Life and Love outside of skating.  And although he didn’t fully understand it, maybe this was the beginning of him and Otabek finding their own way through Life and Love outside of the competitive skating world.

            Either way, it was the happiest he had ever been in his life.


End file.
